His hands were white, ghostly and translucent against darker tones of copper and caramel. The contrast was startling, vivid and shocking to his eyes in the darkness, shadows bleeding beneath the splay of his fingers. The body under his moved restlessly, the fluttery ripple of an abdomen drawing his eyes, a lazy stroll that was obstructed by the sheet that hung low off the other's hips. Tousled dark locks fell with casual abandon over the arch of his lover's brow, nearly hiding closed eyes, and he itched to brush them away, to lean forward and press his mouth against those curving lips again and again until those sleepy lids lifted. Hisoka wanted to drown in amethyst, in violets and lilacs that were almost blue when upset, like twilight during contentment, and threatening to outshine the stars on those rare occasions their possessor was happy. Instead he leaned forward, sucking against the proud curve of his lover's throat, teeth against the beat of his pulse. The response was immediate, a lazy arch of muscles tightening and releasing, a low moan escaping gently parted lips. An opening he took advantage of, rising with ruthless swiftness to press a kiss there, his tongue sliding inward. He was so warm, Hisoka thought hazily, his fingers curving, raking over shoulder and pectorals down to the stomach quivering so enticingly with each passing moment, the proof of desire evident despite the thin rude shielding of bedding. He wanted to wallow in that warmth, to feel it seep through pore and skin so cold and thick it felt like marble instead of flesh. He needed it, craved it, using it to keep the lethargy at bay, allowing it to stoke this dangerous attachment; so new and unexpected, he still wondered at it.

He shouldn't be here but he was. He wanted to leave and he didn't. And so he stayed, touching as he could not be touched, fearful of the damage this might be causing to his sleeping paramour. Every night this week he had come with the intent that it would be the last one, the last touch, the last look and every night he made a liar of himself. There was something so forlorn about this man, so lost and lonely, that made him hover during the daytime hours when he was surrounded by a flurry of doctors and nurses, all of whom were focused on keeping him in a world he no longer wished to occupy. Hisoka supposed he should thank them for that, for preserving this life now so precious and intriguing to him. It seemed wrong somehow though, to keep someone alive against their wishes and Hisoka had seen enough of this one's thoughts to know he wanted to die. No…that wasn't right either. Dying would take more interest than this human wanted to exert -- to not be, that seemed closer to the truth. He wasn't vague because of all the drugs pumped into his system (although those weren't helping) but because taking an interest would mean having to be grounded, to be in the here and now--a place that was far too painful for him. Him. Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki Asato. Hisoka still shied away from the name, having taken his time to learn it, never once letting it fall from his lips even as it wanted to so badly. He hadn't been given it, hadn't earned; instead having pulled it from the minds surrounding him, from the chart at the foot of the bed, and finally from the surface of Tsuzuki's tangled mind. There were other names there, broken beyond repair, names that didn't go with faces but with strong emotions that overwhelmed him whenever he drew close to the other man. Like a spider web disintegrating in a steady rain, the thoughts held little cohesion or coherency, tinged with guilt and anger and fear, all of which was directed inward. The man's capacity for self-loathing staggered him, had in fact been the first thing to catch Hisoka's attention that day wandering the ward, unseen by those around him. He had long since learned that the best place to hunt was in the hospitals and sanitariums, those places where death could freely roam without raising an eyebrow and if a few of the inhabitants actually happened to see him… Well, they were insane, who would believe them anyway?

So he had wandered the halls of his new home, searching, hunting for something to slake his thirst, to take the edge of the unreality nipping painfully of the edges of his consciousness, desiring nothing more than a quick fix, something to ground him in the concrete. It was Tsuzuki who had called to him, his pain somehow greater, more real and immediate than any of the others, Tsuzuki who coyly drew him by doing nothing at all. Sitting beneath an open window, the pallor of early morning wrapping him in a protective embrace, he had thought the man to be asleep in his wheelchair, not realizing until he drew closer that those vivid eyes were open, staring off into a space that only he could see. He hadn't been able to stop himself, moving ever closer until he was next to the man, marveling at the ravaged allure of his unhappy features when those empty eyes had…had sparked, had focused on him, really and truly seeing him before clouding over again. The whole thing had shaken him enough to retreat across the room, feeling that gaze still piercing him, the ghost of a memory stirred and a bargain sealed whether he willed it or no. The image was etched into his mind, something he held to when he felt himself fading out, Tsuzuki in that moment more palpable than anything he had ever experienced.

It had been enough to draw him to the man that night, to slip down guarded halls and barred doors like some fairy tale prince trying to overcome the evil witch's castle. Arms strapped down and sleeping despite that, Tsuzuki had and still did make an unlikely princess, though there was still some remnant of beauty in his emaciated features. He had meant to take only what he needed, to sate himself and move on, trapped when a thin strip of violet became visible through a fan of thick lashes, Hisoka being studied as he was studying. He looked as if he wanted to speak, to say something and Hisoka had wanted that too, wanted to hear the voice that went with that face, not the one screaming in his mind, childlike and reedy, filled with more pain than anyone should have to bear. Then Tsuzuki had turned away, face set resolutely against his pillow as if he were trying to banish Hisoka, wrapping the tattered shreds of his sanity in a protective blanket, somehow as struck by Hisoka as Hisoka was by him. He should have been glad of that, feasted off of his indifference and pain and left but instead he had leaned down and --

--kissed him. But it wasn't like his other kisses; it neither stole nor gave anything. It was clumsy and simple like a mortal kiss and it had startled them both, Tsuzuki craning his head again. And he had fled, ran before those eyes could fix on him again, could pin him in place without a word being uttered, angry beyond all belief and half-starved.

He managed to stay away two whole days before curiosity and some nameless need dragged him back, Tsuzuki blinking at him across the commons where he was being wheeled. To shock therapy, Hisoka had discovered later, a nasty vile discovery that left the man physically trembling and so spastic in thought he could barely summon up the energy to lift his head. He wasn't sure how many times Tsuzuki had been through such treatment but one thing was obvious to Hisoka -- it was going to kill him if they continued. After one such application, unable to bear the sight of him twitching so, small and twisted upon his bed, Hisoka had clambered under the covers and used what art he had to dull the sensation. Sucking up the pain and taking it into himself, using it to feed himself, he had wrapped around Tsuzuki, the irregular thump of the man's heart loud as it jerked to and fro to his preternatural hearing. He had taken and taken until he was so full it hurt and Tsuzuki's heart slowed to the point of stopping, near comatose. Had he opened himself up just a little more, fed on the energy still weakly roiling off the man, so much more vibrant than those surrounding him, Tsuzuki would have been free now. They both would have been freed, not trapped in this cycle that seemed to promise nothing.

It had long been his curse to be in the world and not part of it, unseen and unheard unless he chose otherwise, leaving no footsteps to trace. Only those he took knew he existed and even then he knew that their disordered, dying minds often had trouble discerning him from their delusions, a personal heaven or hell that flavored every taste. He wasn't a vampire, at least not in the classical sense; blood did nothing for him and he didn't have to feed every night, not if he did things properly. Of course doing things properly meant draining a person completely dry, leaving nothing more than a mindless husk and there were very few people he would wish that on.

Sometimes he tried, convinced that fading out, losing himself to the gray fog always at the edges of his consciousness would be better than this half-life but each attempt lasted only as long as the first true pangs of hunger surfaced, when he started to lose things -- memories, thoughts, pieces of himself breaking away even as he reached for them. Physical pain could be endured but his master had chosen well when he placed his touch upon Hisoka, cursing him for all eternity to wander, using other people to ground him, to make him more real lest he melt away, losing physical form like Euridyce without her Orpheus.

It had always been his gift to know the thoughts and feelings of others even as they themselves were experiencing it, a gift that had made him both valued and hated by his parents. From the time his empathy had manifested itself at a young age, he had been used by his parents to cheat on business deals, to uncover secrets that might have been best left hidden, using them as blackmail on friends as well as strangers. No one had caught on to the fact that the young boy sitting so silently in the corner, diligently reading his books was in reality leaching their innermost thoughts. Not until he turned sixteen, when his parents for all their smug knowing tried to cheat the wrong man and he had punished them --and him for their impunity. His parents had gotten off comparatively lucky, losing only the riches and status they had so wrongly earned off the pain and sweat of others. He…he on the other had not been so fortunate. Hisoka paused, again struck by how white his skin was now, so like /his/ had been and he wondered if that had been part of the curse curved deep into his bones, a reminder, as if his current condition wasn't enough of one. The man, doctor and magician, had ripped his life from him, both literally and figuratively, taking him from the small village that had been his home and using him to his own purposes until Hisoka had finally wrested his freedom back, using on the man the very curse he had implanted. Not killing him because Hisoka didn't think he could be killed but inflicting enough damage to escape. He had been running since that day and while he had not seen hide nor hair of his tormentor, he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. Muraki was a determined man, and from the thoughts and memories Hisoka had taken from him, he gleaned that the doctor would find him eventually and that one of them would die.

"You're crying."

Hisoka jerked, fingers tightening around the forearms beneath his touch, eyes darting downward to meet solemn wine-dark orbs, the ropes on the bed twitching as Tsuzuki tried to move his arm. Tsuzuki smiled apologetically, settling back against his pillow, his voice rough and scratchy from disuse as he spoke again, directly, as he never had before. "Does it hurt so much?"

"What?" His own voice was thick and surprised, and he lifted his hands to find the tracks of tears unrealized bathing his cheeks. "You're awake!"

The words were accusatory, alarmed and he shifted, attempting to skitter backward, cheeks flaming as he tugged at the other's loosened robe, aware of his own nakedness, of the position they were in and how much it suddenly mattered. He found himself humiliated and guilty, mourning the loss of something that hadn't been his, a closeness that he had taken without asking, finding contentment in being close to this mortal, in those furtive touches he had gathered the courage to steal. Steal. Yes, he had stolen and now it had been stolen back.

"It's all right," Tsuzuki's voice was soothing, reassuring despite its creaky hoarseness. His fingers strained, managing to graze Hisoka's side, a small scrape of nails that made him tingle. "I don't mind."

It stayed him, making his voice harsh and defensive. "Don't mind what? How long--?" How long had he been awake, how long had he known, Hisoka didn't know which question he meant or which he wanted more.

"I don't want you to leave," Tsuzuki replied simply. "You make it better."

"I'm killing you," Hisoka said. "I'm taking from you because that's what I do."

"If you need it, then I don't mind." Came the frank reply, Tsuzuki's eyes wide now, wide and earnest and awake and focused entirely on him as he repeated. "It's all right."

"No, it's not all right," Hisoka contradicted him. "It isn't right but but that's the way it is."

"So is life," Tsuzuki shrugged. "It's not right; it's ugly, it's loud, and it's unfair. People hurt each other and people die."

"But that's not all it is," he found himself insisting. "There has to be more to it than that."

"Sometimes," Tsuzuki agreed, turning away and Hisoka caught his chin, tilting it upward, forcing aching violet to meet his again.

"Don't hide," Hisoka whispered, his fingers brushed over temple and cheek, down to cup his jaw. "I waited -- I've wanted for so long--"

It was an admission and confession in one, painful because it hit him with the force of a blow, never realizing until this moment how true it was, how much he had longed for something, anything to happen.

"I know." He was so damnably calm, so different from the maelstrom Hisoka sensed every time he fed off of the man. "And that's why."

"Why?" he coaxed, half-afraid if he stopped prodding that Tsuzuki would fall silent again, as if none of this had ever happened, lost in the madness he willingly embraced. It was a novelty, having a lucid conversation with someone after so long, someone alive and human and not afraid. Even if the equanimity he was faced with was unnerving.

"If you're killing me, why haven't you done it yet?" Tsuzuki posed instead, eyes attentive. "Why are you here? You've had so many opportunities."

"I-," Hisoka felt helpless, lost as he had not been since he was a child, all those many decades ago. "You interest me and I-I don't want you to die, I guess. At least not by my hand."

That seemed to satisfy him, the corners of his mouth lifting as if he had discovered an enchanting secret, and Hisoka wanted to kiss him--as he had done before, when Tsuzuki had seemed confused and unaware. "I don't want to be here," Tsuzuki said.

He was surprised by the pain that evoked, tangible and his own, not something he had taken. For so long he had longed to feel something beyond the hunger and the fear and now here it was and he thought perhaps he had been wrong to wish for such a thing, because nothing should sting like this.

"I was brought here because I tried to hurt myself," His smile became deprecating, "I tried to gouge my eyes out. My sister--she stopped me and I hurt her. I didn't mean to but I did. She--fell, broke her neck. They found me over her body and-- The villagers didn't understand. They thought I did it on purpose." He shuddered, "As if I could ever do such a thing. They nearly beat me to death."

Hisoka sucked in a breath, moving closer again, chilled by the rising lilt of words, the way Tsuzuki smiled despite the things he felt crowding in his mind. He had a flash of long dark hair, a face so similar to Tsuzuki's, only more delicate and eyes that were blue instead of deep amethyst. There were so many feelings tangled in that image -- love and guilt and sadness, loathing and revulsion. The grief of her death hadn't lessened with time; contemplation had only made it worse and suddenly everything all made sense.

"I was brought here because people were afraid of me, because they thought I might hurt someone else. But I stayed because I didn't wish to live in the world anymore, because there was nothing and no one in it that made it worth the anguish of living. I can't take my own life, not the one she purchased with hers but I can make sure I never hurt anyone ever again. I can stay locked up here, rotting away until I'm finally allowed to die. Were I brave, I would turn myself over to the authorities for proper punishment but--" he attempted to move his shoulders in a casual shrug, hampered by his restraints, concluding, "I'm a coward."

"But you didn't mean to--you said yourself that it was an accident."

"And she's still dead. Nothing I do will ever make it right, nothing can ever undo that." Tsuzuki's eyes closed then opened again, raw and glistening for a moment. Perhaps it was a trick of the light for the next moment there was nary a trace of that glittery sheen. "I -- When I realized what you were doing, I hoped you would kill me."

So that was it then. That was why he had broken his self-imposed catatonia, to speak because he hoped Hisoka would do what he could not. His mouth felt dry, full of ash and bitterness and he was so desperately and quietly enraged he could barely contain himself.

"And then, after a while, I found myself hoping you would stay."

The words were barely audible but Hisoka heard them, reaching blindly to wrap his arms around Tsuzuki's neck, burying his face in the curving juncture of shoulder and neck he admired earlier. He clung close, burrowing and wrapping himself around the other man, a pained sigh escaping Tsuzuki. "I--I wish I could touch you," he said.

Hisoka reached for the restraints. "I can remove these for you--"

"No," A word stopped him as Tsuzuki could not physically. "No," he repeated regretfully. "If you do--people will notice. Tomorrow. They'll be suspicious and -- No. It will be worse if you do."

"I can put them back," Hisoka objected.

"No, " Tsuzuki was emphatic, shrinking in on himself. "I did something I shouldn't have in therapy earlier, said something to make the doctor worry. It doesn't matter."

"Besides," he angled his face so that their noses nearly brushed, hot breath fanning over Hisoka's lips and chin. "I can still feel you. That's more than enough. More than I deserve."

Hisoka shivered, feeling the heat through the burn of cold creeping through his system, scaly and rough and thick as ice. He had fed but a little this night, contenting himself with a few precious swallows, too enthralled by the man sleeping to want to waste their time together. And now Tsuzuki was awake and Hisoka was…trapped? Caught? Both were correct but not so much as tangled, cords of thorny dreams and desire linking him to Tsuzuki, ensnaring him before he himself had truly understood.

"You're afraid," Tsuzuki observed, gentle face creasing with concern and Hisoka found himself squeezing his now covered shoulder automatically, numbing fingers blistered by the warmth emanating from cloth and flesh. That was what one did in situations like this, right? To offer comfort and reassurance? Sometimes he forgot…little things, human mannerisms, human customs snipped away and he supposed that in places such as this they weren't needed anyway. The mad had no use for niceties, no reason to what offended or didn't, and he stayed away from normal people, unable to bear the sight of them going about their lives, doing all the things that he would never do -- have friends, get married, have children, grow old. Die.

Yes, he was afraid. He was afraid of the way Tsuzuki's eyes caressed his face, shades of lilac and pomegranate darkening with something new, desire, yes but something else, deeper and more destructive.

"You're in love with death," Hisoka remarked, hollow and hungry, starving and knowing what could soothe that ache, the very thing he found himself sliding back from, the safety of space between them. "You court it with open arms."

Tsuzuki glanced down, a half smile quirking his face. "Hardly with arms open, I'm afraid."

"It's not funny!" Hisoka snapped.

The smile was wiped clean, the other instantly contrite, apologetic even. "No, no it isn't, I suppose."

"I should get up right now and leave you. Leave you and never come back, leave you to rot in this place among the damned." The words were firm but lacked the conviction that they should have carried.

Tsuzuki nodded, his hair nearly black in this light as it flopped over his face. "You should. It would be just punishment."

"Because you would have to live."

"Because you would go away and I would never see you again." Came the impassioned reply.

"Stop it, stop saying these things," Hisoka's fists curled and slammed against Tsuzuki's chest, his anger visceral and alive as it wrung a soft gasp from the other. "I don't care if you want to die but don't make this about me. Don't pretend that you care, that you want--"

"You. I want you. More than death." The words were resigned, tired and guilt-ridden.

His eyes widened. "You cannot want me. You don't even know me. I'm not human for all that I look like it. I kill."

"So have I. And as for the other…" Tsuzuki studied him, his mind beckoning towards Hisoka with softer emotions, drowning and more potent than all his pain and twice as beautiful, leaving him to grit his teeth in an effort to keep from swarming against him. "I know enough. I know you take away my pain, that you've been watching me for days, that you come and stay all night, your arms around me and your lips upon mine. I know that I want you and I know that you want me."

"Stop--"

"I know you cry, I've felt your tears staining my hair and clothes. And when you touch me…I feel something, and it's clean and it's good and it gives me hope, the hope that I had long since abandoned. I know I think about you without ceasing and I would rather you turn your powers against me and take my life than live without you."

"This--this isn't living," Hisoka denied it, over the tightening in his throat and belly and the way his body sought to cleave to Tsuzuki despite himself.

Lifting his head, Tsuzuki's words found his ear before nuzzling his cheek against Hisoka's, "No, but it can be. It's wrong. I know that. But if you stay… If you stay, then it doesn't matter."

"And what of your punishment? Your justice?"

"I won't leave the asylum," Tsuzuki's tone was serious. "If you choose to leave, I can't follow you. I promised myself, my sister, that I would not. I will keep that promise and do my penance. But I think--I think that Ruka would not mind if I took care of you for a little while."

The last was tender, small and vulnerable and he wanted it so much, wanted it to be true even as he knew he had no right to it. "You think you'll take care of me?" Hisoka's voice was scornful, dripping with disdain, as much as he could still summon. "What makes you think I want your care?"

There was no warning, no movement to tip him off, Tsuzuki's eyes searching his and then they were kissing-- No, Tsuzuki was /kissing/ him, slow and inviting, asking even as he took. Dry-rough touches that should have been uncomfortable but somehow weren't, rasping against his mouth. It was different than before, when he had pressed kisses against Tsuzuki's unmoving lips, wishing for a response but expecting none. There was nothing nebulous here, a weave of affection and desire pouring over him, a sparkle shower raining in his mind, driving out the chill and wakening a ravenous hunger. One he could barely keep in check as he nibbled on Tsuzuki's upper lip, unable to stop the slip of his tongue from licking the sweat there. Chins bumping, the kiss changed, deepening and turning feral and clingy until Tsuzuki could no longer hold his head up, falling back on his pillow as Hisoka hovered above him. It would be so easy to lean down and seal his mouth against Tsuzuki's, trapping breath and mind with fierce swiftness and devour him whole. He could almost feel it now -- all those glorious thoughts, tinged with agony and passion snug in his stomach, possessing him in a brief summer that would warm his blood, taking him into a place where he would be one with Tsuzuki, beyond the physical and the smack of flesh on flesh.

And Tsuzuki knew it too, even as he lay panting against his mattress, eyes never leaving Hisoka's, waiting -- waiting to die, waiting to live. He would not stop Hisoka if he attacked, but would allow himself to be drained, would die if Hisoka willed it.

"Tell me," he crawled until he was hovering on all fours above the man, uncaring that for the first time his scars were revealed, magic set deep inside him, taking him apart bit by bit, cells dissolving even now. Muraki had told him he was divine, an elegant vessel with starlight trapped and made luminous in his fair skin and golden hair. That there was something bewitching about the delicate curve of his flesh, not that of a man or a boy, unearthly and fearful. He could see it now, reflected in Tsuzuki's eyes, could see himself and not for the first time, he hated that otherworldly aspect, that he could enmesh and glamour without having to try. It was exactly what he didn't want here. "Tell me what you want."

Tsuzuki went still beneath him, pupils dilated so that the black was rimmed with a thin sheath of violet instead of the other way around. Hisoka despaired for a moment, fearing him charmed beyond reason when he spoke, the words tripping over themselves. "What's your name?"

The question was so ridiculous, so mundane that here in this place, where both their fates seemed to teeter on the edge of a knife that it seemed unimportant. "Hisoka." His voice was sibilant, almost a hiss as he lingered on the syllables, not having heard it spoken aloud since that day with Muraki. "My name is … Hisoka."

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki spoke with reverence and care, like one who had received an unexpected gift, repeating it again. "Hisoka."

He waited, yearning for nothing more than to tell him what it meant to hear his name spoken on living lips. The thirst was terrible, singing through his body, whetted by lust and all those lovely, lovely emotions that Tsuzuki couldn't hide. His muscles contracted, rippling in agitation as he shifted, hands framing Tsuzuki's head and knees closing in on his lower body. Inclining his back, he leaned in, Tsuzuki jerking and he wondered what he must look like to elicit such a response. "Choose quickly."

"I already did." The reply was quiet but resolute. "I want you to stay. I want you with me. I--I want you."

His mouth descended with abrupt brutality, unable to stave off any longer, wolfish and impatient as he recaptured pliable lips, Tsuzuki no less eager in answer. He fumbled, levering himself so that he could kick the bedding all the way down, never once breaking contact, Tsuzuki's tongue sliding into his mouth, meeting and stroking his own. Settling into a sitting position, he straddled Tsuzuki's hips, feeling the length of the restraints distend beneath his wandering fingers with the pressure exerted each time Tsuzuki so much as shifted.

Following his gaze, Tsuzuki allowed their lips to part with a small laugh, "I think maybe I should have let you remove those."

"Too late now," Hisoka almost smiled in return, sharing the enjoyment Tsuzuki derived from so many minute details -- the way Hisoka tasted, the way he moved and smelled. The sensation was dissonant, an echo that bounced along his nerves, passion twining around itself until he wasn't sure who it originated from. Only that it continued, an ouroboros without end. Reaching, he parted the robe he had loosened earlier, untying it completely, the tips of his fingers skimming down Tsuzuki's side, coaxing a shuddery breath as he traced the ridge of ribs and flat skin between each. Tsuzuki was almost painfully slender, wrists more spindly than they should have been, the sort of thinness associated with illness. It gave him pause, running his hands back upward, thumbs brushing close to dark nipples, pleased with the breathy groan he was rewarded with. He circled those fleshy nubs, grazing the outer circle lightly with his nails. The tendons in Tsuzuki's throat stood out in relief as his head twitched against the bed as he slowly twisted them between his thumb and forefingers, not quite pinching but with enough force to nearly unseat Hisoka with Tsuzuki's response. There was something really satisfying about the way Tsuzuki rocked back and to as Hisoka raked nails over his chest, lowering his mouth to follow the light pink scratches he left there, lapping at the near invisible furrows until his lips trailed over a nipple, tarrying long enough to close his mouth around it, suctioning with increasing tension.

Tsuzuki thrust upward and he gasped around the flesh in his mouth, his erection digging into the hollow between abdomen and hip. He shoved back, using his leverage to put more force behind the push, the bulge of Tsuzuki's arousal falling into align with his, hidden and confined by a thin layer of cloth. He hissed, the scratchy fabric jarring against his naked skin, sending tiny shocks down his spine, a thunderstorm gone awry, searing along nerves and tissue. He wished Tsuzuki were free, wanting to feel his skin molding to the sensation of his lover's hands on him and he very nearly ripped the restraints out of their moorings. Instead he concentrated on the exposed flesh in front of him, smoothing his lips over Tsuzuki's chest, salt burning on his upper lip even as his tongue swept before him. It was dizzying, the flush of emotion that hit him with each touch, pelvises grinding wildly together, unable to detect who was making what sound as he lost himself. His hand slid downward of its own accord, covering Tsuzuki's erection, closing snugly around it and giving it a gentle squeeze. Tsuzuki whimpered, thrusting up into his grasp, Hisoka fascinated with his reaction, doing it again, fingers digging in and around, cradling the heavy sac in his grasp. Still more sounds erupted from Tsuzuki, his pleasure exploding outward, passing like an exotic fever into Hisoka until he could swear his teeth were chattering. He jerked again, rubbing himself against Tsuzuki, his hand trapped between them, the slightest of barriers between them. The rhythm came so naturally, Tsuzuki having set it and leaving him to follow as they moved in time, Hisoka nearly limp atop his lover as he set all his will into keeping pace. Slippery with sweat, the dance was moving faster, the steps being lost, frantic as the blood pounded in his ears, Tsuzuki's need as great as his own, each crest more violent than the tide before.

Hisoka grit his teeth, gaining mastery of himself enough to raise up, the pitifully disappoint mewl that followed it nearly dashing his resolve. He reached for the waistband of the sweat and fluid dampened cloth between them, peeling it over hips, dashing a kiss against the angry-red erection that thumped against Tsuzuki's stomach. He took his time pulling it free of the man, torturing them both as he ran his face and hands along his lover's thighs and legs, another kiss planted on each ankle. Had he the time he would linger over each toe, the long arch of instep, so large in comparison to his own, connected by knobby bone to powerful legs. They lifted, bending and spreading at the knee and he caught them, unable to stop himself from kissing his way back upward, intoxicated by the rich, pungently male scent surrounding them. Tsuzuki undulated under his touch, still mimicking the decadent flow and tempo they had set earlier, hips moving in time with a partner who wasn't there. It was erotic to watch, running his hands under the soft underside of his lover's knees, then up higher, between spread thighs, where the skin lay satiny and burning, searching higher until he closed around Tsuzuki's hips, drawing him down at the same time he moved upward. He eyed the hard, upraised curve of flesh now in his hand, spongy and malleable-hard, so like and unlike own, kneading with both hands from the base to the tip, toying with the slit at the very top, Tsuzuki's cries increasing in volume. Part of him noted that perhaps they should slow down, should find a way to be quieter but it was subsumed in the whole, Hisoka feeling reckless enough to damn anyone who tried interrupting them. Besides, the cries of the inmates were nothing new in sanitariums; rare was the guard indeed who bestirred himself to check.

Tsuzuki was burning, his mind just as afire as his body and the conflagration was spreading beyond Hisoka's means of control. Dipping his head, he closed his lips around the erection in his grasp, his free hand sliding down to the center of his own need, massaging at the tightness that had grown to painful proportions. Tangy and salty, the bitter deep taste lay on his tongue, the flavor unlike any other and he closed his teeth around the ridges of flesh filling his mouth, suckling, wanting more. Tsuzuki's legs had somehow found their way onto his shoulders, locking around his head and holding him in place, bucking upward. He released himself, hands catching restive hips and holding them as he bobbed up and down, throat shrinking and contracting each downward push. He wanted, wanted it all, all of this, all of Tsuzuki and without warning he felt his control loose and burst. Tsuzuki's back jerked into a painful arch, a low wail ripped from him as Hisoka's powers latched on, a slow, steady drain that left them both blissed out, Hisoka nearly graying out from the pleasure, Tsuzuki's pleasure.

He fed off of pain, it was true but that didn't mean he couldn't feed off of other emotions as well. Pleasure, ecstasy -- those were particularly addicting, heady and sweet. He preferred the other because he could keep a clearer head and because it gave him the chance to end the suffering of those he chose. Lighter emotions were more unpredictable, leaving him greedy for more, wanting to wrap himself in them and realizing how stupid it all was because the source of that sustenance were often the very prey he sought to deny himself.

But Tsuzuki…Tsuzuki was different. He had given himself to Hisoka, willingly, as no one else had ever done before. He had left himself at the beast's mercy and was trusting that it would be enough to save him.

Hisoka didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"…'Soka," Tsuzuki managed through gritted teeth. Hisoka roused himself, sleepy warm as the hunger was being extinguished, picking apart the memories his lover was sharing, the thoughts, and dreams -- every one Tsuzuki had ever had. So beautiful, silvery blue and translucent reds and greens like the pictures of the African savanna in one of the books he'd read. They shimmered and bubbled around him, rich purple and savage yellows and blacks for his pain, his guilt, and hatred. Each one a delicacy, making him stronger.

"'Soka. No-not like this," Tsuzuki tried again and the breath left him.

Hisoka thought on that, damming the flood of thoughts, slowing it to a trickle as he released the flesh in his mouth with one last, lazy lick before stalking up the length of Tsuzuki's body, the taste of his lover inside and out strong. He offered it to him, lips returning to Tsuzuki's, mind turning towards the others, offering instead of taking. This time he set their movements, his erection sliding against Tsuzuki's with wanton enthusiasm, Tsuzuki's return thrust strong, if not a little sluggish. His tongue sought out Tsuzuki's, sliding over and underneath, allowing Tsuzuki to chase after his, plundering the depths of Hisoka's mouth. And their minds… Hisoka couldn't comprehend what was happening there, save that it had never happened before. Thoughts joining, not as one person but two people in union, sharing each other's desire and joy. The affection he had detected before was multiplied, running deeper than the river of passion between them, directing the ebb and flow of bodies moving in tandem, limbs tangling. He gave himself over to it, no longer taking but sharing and finding himself sated as he had never been before.

Tsuzuki came first, white-hot and spurting against Hisoka's stomach, an earthquake that set him following straight behind, aftershocks wringing them both. He lay panting, thick and languid, Tsuzuki's heart erratic beneath his ear. He couldn't move much, not beyond lacing his arms around his tired lover, sticky and damp and uncaring of it all. He wanted to ask if Tsuzuki were all right, if Hisoka had hurt him but after a second he knew, could feel Tsuzuki's contentment thrumming, purring across his shields. It felt so good, so comforting and his eyes were so heavy as he snuggled closer.

"Don't leave?" the entreaty was cracked, fear and hope vying as Tsuzuki twisted his head down to meet Hisoka's eyes.

Hisoka tightened his hold, with arms and legs and body as well as mind. "I won't. Even if you don't always see me. I'll come back -- I promise."

"For how long?"

The questioned troubled him and he ducked his face against Tsuzuki's shoulder. The man laughed, low and throaty as he ruefully answered his own question. "Fair enough, I suppose."

Hisoka chewed his lower lip, contemplating their exchange earlier, what Tsuzuki had asked of him before replying, "As long as you are alive--that's how long."

"And if something should happen before?" Tsuzuki's eyes were sad, distant. "Something that makes you have to take off?"

He frowned, wondering just how much he had given Tsuzuki in his exchange, if the man had glimpsed something of his past, of Muraki.

"I know that you're running from something--someone," Tsuzuki continued, hitting closer than he would have liked to his thoughts. "If I can protect you, help you… I will, of course. It's just that --After this… I don't think I can /be/ without you."

Hisoka closed his eyes, remembering how emphatic his lover had been about his punishment, about not leaving the asylum. When Tsuzuki asked not to be left behind, he was asking something different and infinitely more difficult than following Hisoka.

He drew in a shaky breath, "If I have to leave before… I'll take your life. I won't leave you here alone."

It wasn't forever. He couldn't promise that and from the way Tsuzuki sighed, he knew it, too. Maybe it would be enough and maybe it wouldn't. It wasn't something Hisoka wanted to examine too deeply now. They had this moment and it was more than he had ever thought possible, perhaps more than either deserved.

Everything else could attend to itself.

***End